Slit My Throat
by Convenient Alias
Summary: A mind controlled Clint worries that Loki doesn't trust him. Loki does his best to convince his dear hawk otherwise.


Admittedly, Clint should not have expressed doubt that Loki trusted him. The god frowned as soon as he said it, but he did not say anything in response. Instead, he stepped closer to the archer, step by step, until they stood less than a foot away from each other. Closer than usual. Although Loki seemed to enjoy being in close proximity to Clint, their hideout, which they were currently in, was a warehouse. Half the time Clint was sitting up in the rafters and Loki was of course too dignified to join him there.

In order to speak to Loki, Clint had come down. It was what he had said, that Loki put no trust in him, which had Loki's hackles up now.

"My dear hawk," he said, his brow creased. "Why would you ever doubt that I trust you? Of all my subordinates, you are the most efficient and trustworthy. Indeed, I feel that I could leave any task to you."

Clint hesitated.

He did not know, truth to tell, exactly what to think of Loki. The mind control that swirled at the edges of his thoughts blurred matters considerably. He felt, vaguely, that he admired the man. And of course he trusted the man completely, and was loyal to him completely. To even think of betraying him felt dirty. And yet...

"Sometimes," Clint said, staring at the floor, unable to look Loki in the eyes for shame. "Sometimes you stare into the distance, and you seem to be very far away. And when you come back you look almost sick, and you never tell me what you were thinking of."

Clint could hear the frown in Loki's voice as he said, "It is no matter for you to trouble yourself about."

"I know it is none of my business, boss," Clint said. "But you tell us so little information. It's worse than when they withheld information from us at SHIELD. I just...It feels as if you have no trust in me at all."

He would have preferred to continue staring at the ground, but a hand reached out and touched his chin, gently pulling his head up so that he had to look forward. Loki was standing even closer to him now, and his eyes, fixed on Clint's face, were sad.

Clint flinched. Displeasing Loki felt like the worst sin one could ever commit. He opened his mouth to speak, but Loki interrupted.

"I call you my hawk," he murmured, his voice silky-soft. "But in reality you are only borrowed. When it comes down to it, you belong to SHIELD and without my staff's interference that is where your loyalty lies. I'm afraid I must restrict information accordingly, my dear hawk. If SHIELD should regain your service, I can't have you betraying my secrets, now, can I?"

Clint didn't know how much of it was the mind control speaking, but he loved to hear Loki's voice. It twined through his mind, silvery and sweet, and Clint felt that such a lovely voice could never speak anything but truth.

Well.

Sometimes he felt that way.

However, he was not deceived about his employer. The man was a god of liars and tricksters, and while his words sounded so convincing there was no way Clint could trust them without questioning (and perhaps in the end he was the less trusting of the two after all).

He licked his lips before speaking, because defiance was not in his nature (at least not with the mind control's grasp strong on his heart) and he did not like to argue with his master. But in the end he could not help but say, "Perhaps you cannot trust my future self then."

"Not a penny's worth," Loki agreed pleasantly. He had removed his hand from Clint's chin, and Clint kind of hated the way he cringed at its absence, physical contact with his current master being a most pleasurable experience. He also hated, of course, how easily Loki dismissed the possibility of trusting a Clint not under Loki's complete control, but that was another matter.

"As I am now, though," Clint argued. "I cannot betray you. You know that."

"Full well," Loki agreed again. He lifted an eyebrow, prompting Clint to continue, to explain what he was getting at. For of course he was clever enough to see that Clint was getting at something. (Loki was very clever.)

"Then, just for now," Clint said (and he tried very hard to keep that note of pleading out of his voice, but he thought he was failing). "Don't you trust me at all?"

Loki sighed, letting his eyebrow fall back down and resuming a blank expression. "I have given you several sensitive tasks, my hawk."

"Supply runs, recruitment," Clint said. "Not telling me what the supplies are even for yet. You say you will tell me all about the operation when the time comes. When is the time?"

"Soon, of course," Loki responded. "Just a few nights to go. I will tell you all you need to know soon."

"All I need to know, but you will hold something back," Clint said stubbornly. "Where do you go when you look into the distance, Loki? Why do you look sick all the time? Why are you so desperate to take over the world?"

There was always a sense that Loki had deep secrets. Clint only wanted to know enough to keep his master safe and sound, but it was quite obvious that Loki was not sound, not in mind or body, and had not been for quite some time. Even when he had first attacked the SHIELD base and...taken Clint under his wing, he had seemed a little unhinged. There had been dark circles under his eyes then and in all the time since those circles had scarcely gotten smaller.

Loki stared at Clint, still looking so sad. Clint almost hated himself for causing that sadness in his dear master, but it was obvious that Loki was not well. And if only, if only Loki would trust Clint enough to tell him enough that he could help him...

Loki's eyes dropped closed, then snapped open. He gifted Clint with a quirk of his lips, a twisted smile, a combination of apologetic and smug.

"I can't tell you the answers to those questions, my hawk," he murmured now. "But I do trust you, and as this matter of trust seems to trouble your poor mortal mind so, allow me to demonstrate."

Nothing that made Loki so smug could be good. Clint shifted uneasily. "Sure," he muttered. "Go ahead."

Loki seemed to reach about in his sleeves for a moment, and then he stepped even closer to Clint than before. His eyes glittered. "Give me your hand, my hawk."

Clint held his hand out uncertainly but not hesitantly. He was always quick to obey his master's commands.

Loki took Clint's hand in one of his own, and held it up for a minute. Then, with great care, he brought forward his other hand and pressed a long, thin item into Clint's hand.

"Look, my hawk," Loki murmured. "Do you see what this is?"

Clint looked down at his hand, at the shiny, elegantly shaped object he now held in it, and he did indeed see.

"A knife."

"Mmhmm..." Loki practically purred. "I trust you with a weapon, of course, but that's hardly anything new. You're still carrying your bow and arrows around, after all."

Clint nodded. He took his hand away from Loki and had a closer look at the knife. It was silvery from the blade to the handle, not a square centimeter of it not glinting. Fancy, too-engraved with the image of snakes twisting around, eating each other's tails in some strange combination of an ouroboros and a caduceus. "How old is this?"

"Oh, hundreds of years old," Loki said. He waved a hand as if to say it was nothing. "A dwarf hand crafted it for me after I did him a favor. Rare, for a dwarf to be pleased with me. I believe I kept it mostly for that reason, though the craftsmanship is excellent as well."

So Loki was trusting him with a fairly precious item, but Clint knew that couldn't be all. "What's the point of giving me this?"

Loki reached out and took hold of Clint's hand again, with both of his own. He smiled at Clint, looking him fully in the eyes, and gently moved Clint's hand from where he held it in front of his face to the curve of Loki's neck, positioning it so that the blade of the knife rested on Loki's skin.

Clint frowned at Loki, but Loki continued smiling reassuringly. "Relax, my hawk." He slowly withdrew his hands from where they clasped Clint's hand to his neck and allowed them to fall to his sides.

"I don't like this," Clint said quietly. But he didn't take his hand down. Uncertain of what Loki wanted, he continued to hold the blade so that it barely touched the skin on Loki's neck.

"It's all right," Loki replied, just as quiet. "Now, this blade is of dwarf make. It is specially crafted to kill an immortal such as myself, or some other Aesir or Jotun. For that reason it has served me admirably through the years." He allowed the smile to fall away, and his face became solemn. "It will serve you equally admirably, if you so choose."

Clint stared down at the glinting silver blade, the shiny metal looking impossibly hard and sharp against Loki's soft and creamy skin. Loki's vulnerable skin.

It felt wrong. His hand nearly twitched, and he had to restrain himself. To twitch at this point could bring the knife down to the point that it would pierce Loki's skin slightly, and to cause Loki to bleed even a little was unthinkable.

"If you cut down," Loki enunciated. "You can slice deeply into my neck. A wound from that blade I could still use my arts to heal, but if you cut deeply enough I will bleed out before I even get the chance to think of such a step. Slitting a throat is one of the most efficient ways of killing a person."

As if Clint, after all his years as a spy, did not already know that. As if Natasha didn't bring such facts up on a regular basis. Clint swallowed, the act making him painfully aware of his own neck, which itched in sympathy to Loki's vulnerability. "May I put the knife down now, boss?"

Loki shrugged, moving his shoulders but not his neck (so he was as aware of it and as uncomfortable about it as Clint, most likely). "If you so wish. Or you may slit my throat, if that is your desire. I give you full permission."

Clint carefully removed the knife from Loki's throat and let his hand drop to his side, the knife still dangling from it. "Thank you."

Loki laughed, and it occurred to Clint that the laugh was a little shaky. For all that Loki had acted calm with Clint holding a knife to his throat, he apparently had been merely acting after all. Well, he was the god of liars. It was to be expected.

When he had caught his breath, Loki said, "When I gave you permission to slit my throat, the mind control temporarily released you from your compulsion to protect me from bodily harm. If you had chosen you could have killed me then." He paused, and rubbed his neck where the knife had touched it with a wry grin. "There was no way to ensure you wouldn't. But I knew what you would do."

Clint knew what was going on now. "So. That is your trust?"

"That is the extent of my trust in you," Loki confirmed. "If you ever doubt it again, let me know and I will be glad to bare you my neck."

Clint shook his head. "I think that was enough." He held the knife out in front of him. "You can have this back, boss."

Loki shook his head, the grin still stretched wide over his face. "Keep it. Perhaps the next time you believe I don't trust you, it will remind you where we stand. And remind you where we stood, a minute or so ago."

Clint nodded slowly, and slipped the knife into one of the secret compartments in his pants. He used them to keep weapons in generally; this weapon would just be a little fancier than the usual. It slid in easily, and he hoped that it being out of sight would keep it out of mind. He didn't want to remember that Loki could be killed.

* * *

AN: So recently I've been thinking about Loki and Clint's relationship, particularly how it must have developed while Clint was under mind control. I think Loki would have been an okay master, considering. And Clint would have been an okay follower, as long as he was under mind control, but without mind control, well, Loki couldn't trust him a penny's worth.

Reviews are always appreciated! And I would love to hear your thoughts on Loki and Clint's relationship as well, since there are clearly different opinions about it.


End file.
